


The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

by Miss_L



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Death, Gen, Nightmares, at all, bad stuff, it's been a while since I've needed to vent on here, so don't expect any happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:50:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor is having bad nightmares. But at least he can wake up from them. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> So... The news of David Bowie hit me kinda hard, but being the emotionally stunted idiot I am, fanfic seems to be the only way to cope for me...

“Loki, no!” 

He heard himself repeat those simple words again, and again, and again, as he watched helplessly how his brother – traitor, enemy, best friend, remnant of fake memories, but always _brother_ \- died, time and time again. His eyes never accusing, his last breath always an apology, his heart open and true, like when they were children. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even force out the tears building in his chest. He watched, and watched, and watched, not blinking, not even breathing, how Loki was stabbed, run through with spears, burned alive, hanged, flung off a cliff… But always, always holding Thor’s gaze, as if that was the most precious memory he wished to take with him to the afterlife. 

The God of Thunder kept waking up, disoriented, crushing and breaking everything around him. Before he could properly open his eyes, however, he was being sucked again into the hellish world of his nightmares, watching as his brain came up with new ways for his brother to be tortured and killed. A torrent of blood, mingling with tears – he was no longer sure whose blood and whose tears were rolling over his own body, and Loki’s. As his dreams became more violent, he finally broke free of his stupor, gaining more and more control. He could never prevent his brother’s death, but at least he could cradle Loki’s body as his soul left his body, silently hoping that they would meet again in Walhalla. He struggled, again and again, against his invisible bonds until, at last, he felt them come away.

The first thing Thor felt when he woke up again, was blood falling on his face. No, not blood… Rain. He laughed his relief as he heard the thunder and saw flashes of lightning through his half-closed eyes. He remembered where he was. The palace. He didn't even have to guess to realise he had somehow smashed through the roof. He sat up in his wrecked bed, lifted his hands to his face and finally opened his eyes. And noticed that the cleansing water was washing something else of his hands. Something black. Black as the darkest night and just as mysterious, yet there was no doubt in his mind as to its nature. Slowly, he lowered his hands and turned his head, letting his gaze travel incrementally towards the object of his worst fear. In the shimmer of lightning, his brother’s face looked almost transparent. His eyes, once so full of mischief, were now rigid, drops of water bouncing off of the surface. But his gaze was forever locked on his one-time nemesis and best friend.

Praying it was still a dream, Thor cradled Loki’s body in his arms, marvelling at its lightness. As tears mingled with blood once again, the Thunderer wondered why it was said that there is a mercy in death. There was none for him. He did not wake up again.


End file.
